


I can feel it pulling me back

by yellowteapots



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Set during 3B, Stydia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-18 16:36:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1435348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowteapots/pseuds/yellowteapots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Lydia trying to find their way back to one another in the hell that was 3B.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I can feel it pulling me back

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on stydia-fanfics.tumblr.com as a prompt fill.  
> Lydia asking Stiles about the drawings he framed for her? Something not to long after the episode, something sweet because now she realizes she likes him  
> Stiles giving Lydia the framed picture
> 
> This is my first Stydia fic so be gentle, hope you all enjoy the read! :)
    
    
    It wasn't a big deal, not to start with anyway. The paper had just fallen out of her bag, it wasn't like he asked for it or anything, he just found it one day, amongst a pile of printed out wikipedia articles on Japanese mythology that he'd rather just forget about, but as soon as he saw her penmanship a small smile crept onto his lips. Despite the drawing being of the Nemeton, the place where he almost lost his dad, he'd decided to keep the paper, tearing off the bottom half which was blank before tucking it into the framed picture he had of him an Scott sat on his bedside table, deciding that when the time was right he'd give it back to her.
    
    There had never been a time where Stiles hadn't been astounded by Lydia's never ending stream of talents. Drawing was certainly amongst them, the way she had captured the likeness of the twisted roots perfectly in so many sizes and shapes just showed the extents of her ability. He'd learnt, by now, never to be surprised by Lydia. She may be an enigma to some, to those who saw her for the beauty that she was, but Stiles had long since realise how talented the strawberry blonde really was – heck she read books thicker than his fist on theoretical physics for fun – he wasn't even that surprised when they found out she was a banshee, knowing she was always more than met the eye.
    
    Eventually, he found the drawing it's own frame, he was going to give it to Lydia as a gift, to say thank you for, for well being such a great friend to him since everything had happened with his Dad. That being said, he still tucked the little silver beneath his pillow whenever Scott or Isaac were over, the teasing just didn't seem worth it, but it always found it's way back onto his desk, the roots of the Nemeton looking back at him whenever he was sat at his computer. 
    
    He' thought about giving the drawing back the next time she was in his bedroom. Lydia had been sprawled across his bed, twiddling the red wool around her fingers, watching as he held a drawing pin between his teeth and stretched a length of wool from one case file to a picture of an old building on the outskirts of Beacon Hills. When he had turned around to see her watching him intently, he was tempted to give her the drawing -  not that it was a big deal or anything, and was about to broach the subject when she broke the silence between them.
    
    Her eyes drifted over the walls, then back to the balls of wool next to her on the bed. “What do the different coloured strings mean?”  
    
    “Uh um, different stages of the investigation,” Stiles muttered, pointing to the different colours. “So green is solved. Yellow is to be determined. Blue's, well, just pretty.” he shrugged, examining the plethora of red he'd already pinned to the wall.   
      
    “What does red mean?”she asked, tilting her head.
      
      
    Stiles looked somewhat sheepish when he replied. “Uh, unsolved.”
      
    “You only have red on the board.”
      
    “Yes, I am aware. Thank you.” he sighed, looking back towards the wall.
      
    “Did you get detention for pulling the alarm?”
      
    “Yep...everyday this week.” he paused, tapping his pen against his lip before turning back to her. “It's okay, though, we were on to something.”
      
    “Even though we couldn't find any proof of Barrow being there?”
      
    “Hey Lydia,” he walked back across the room, dropping down so that he was crouching in front of her. “You have been right every time something like this has happened, okay, so don't start doubting yourself now”
      
    “No scent, no bomb.” she paused, looking away from his gaze. “I got you in trouble.”
      
    “Okay, okay” he began, untangling the red string from her fingers, holding her hand gently in his. “Barrow was there. Alright? You knew it, you felt it. Okay? And, look, if you wanted to, well, I'd go back to that school right now and search all night just to prove it.”
    
    He was going to give it to her then, to give her some courage, some self belief. He was going to try to be the emotional tether that they needed to be for one another until it dawned on him. They needed to get to the school and fast. “Get up, get up now. We're going to the school.”
    
    After then he'd not had the opportunity. He wasn't even himself. 
    
    She found it before he could give it to her. 
    
    Lydia had been searching for him when she saw it. She was meant to be his tether, the one that anchored him to himself and if she couldn't find him then what use was she?The anxiety and anger had been rising, her frustration making her want to scream.  But she couldn't scream because that meant something that she didn't want to face, not Stiles, never for Stiles, she wouldn't allow it. 
    
    When she found her way back in his room, she wasn't with him this time, although she could still smell his cologne amidst the chaos of the room, reminding her of the need to find him as quickly as possible. All she saw where the red strings she watched him attach to the wall, now tide onto the handle of a pair of scissors which pierced the mattress she had been lying on the last time she was here.
    
    Aiden had been the one to point it out, holding up the picture so it looked like a tree rather than the roots it represented. “Didn't you draw this?”
      
    “Put that back.”
      
    He'd mocked Stiles for keeping the image, telling Lydia that Stiles must really like her but, of course, she already knew that. She had to look away, then, her cheeks turning pink in the way they often did when people mentioned Stiles' crush on her. Hell, she blushed whenever someone brought up the gangly teen, knowing that ever since their kiss that the dynamic between them had changed.
      
    “Maybe he just likes the drawing?”
    
    She knew she had to find him but she just didn't know how.
    
    Whilst he was gone, she came back to his room alone, the Sheriff had let her in. she felt deflated, unsure of herself for the first time, knowing she didn't have Stiles to reassure or guide her. She took in the room, not realising that she was moving until she'd already sat at his desk, the picture frame in her hands. She let her finger trace over the roots of the tree, thoughts swarming around her about the meaning behind it. Did he just like the drawing like she told Aiden? Was it more than that? Why was it framed to be a tree when Stiles knew it to be the Nemeton?
    
    Wait, an oak tree. 
    
    Suddenly everything felt like it was falling into place. She pulled out her phone, frantically dialling, her finger flying over the keyboard.  “Scott! I think I know what to do, this time I know we're going to get him back.”
    
    They didn't have time alone until after, once the real Stiles was back.
    
    He'd been lying on his bed, too tired to do anything but lie there but too scared to go to sleep. He just watched the door he'd now taken to closing, never leaving it open or ajar if he didn't have to, just in case. He didn't want to speak to anyone, not his dad, not Scott, the guilt of what he'd done, what he could've done playing on his mind.
      
    After about half an hour of lying and over thinking, there was a knock at the door, soft but purposeful. Stiles knew that it wasn’t his father or Scott because they never knocked, just walked straight in or came in through the window, the latter of course being directed towards Scott.
      
    He lifted himself off the bed, his socked feet muffling his footsteps before he opened the door.
      
    “Hello.” she smiled. It was cautious, as if she was asking if it was okay to be there.
      
    He smiled back, letting her know that it was. “Hello yourself.”
      
    They stood for a while, drinking each other in, neither moving or saying anything before Lydia shook her head and launched herself at him. Stiles caught her in his arms and held her tight in his arms as she c  
    lung to him, mumbling “I missed you.”
      
    “Missed you too,” he whispered, pulling back from the embrace and gesturing for her to take a seat with an awkward cough.
      
    She sent him a timid smile, suddenly feeling like she might have overstepped some sort of boundary. He smiled back, nearly like his old smiles, and she knew that he'd appreciated the gesture but didn't know how to voice it.
      
    “Hey, uh Stiles?” she begins once she's settled on his bed, propped up against his pillows. “I wanted to ask you something.”
      
    “Sure, go ahead.”
      
    She leant over towards his desk, picking up the frame. “I would have thought you'd want to get rid of anything to do with the Nemeton. So, uh, why d'you keep my picture?”
      
    “Because I knew you'd figure it out.” he wouldn't meet her eye.
      
    She quirked an eyebrow, “That's not the only reason is it?”
      
    He blushed, “Because it was yours.”
      
    “Oh,” Lydia blushed, feeling the heat in her cheeks. 
      
    She'd always been aware of his feelings towards her but lately she hadn't been so sure, worried that things might have changed between them after everything that had happened. That would be her luck all summed up though, him get over his crush just as she was realising hers. From the moment he was gone, when he wasn't Stiles any more, she began to realise, feeling like she was drowning without him there with Allison's words echoing around her. “When you see him and you cannot breathe until you're with him again.” That's what it felt like, seeing him again, like she could breathe again.
      
    “I was, uh, I was going to give it back to you. Like a present, to say thank you.”
      
    “What for?”
      
    “For being there for me. For being my anchor and finding me. For giving me the time of day.”
      
    Seeing that she had gone quiet, he took a deep breath and sat beside her, “You have no idea how much our friendship means to me, the way that you know exactly what to say and what to do to make me feel better, and I don't want my feelings to get in the way of that.” She put her hand on his arm to reassure him. “I want to be in your life in any way that you'll have me.”
      
    “How about you're in my life,” she slide her hand down from his arm and tangled her fingers with his and gently squeezed it until he looked up at her, “in every way?”
      
    And, for the first time, Stiles was surprised by Lydia.
    
    
     
    
    

 

%MCEPASTEBIN%


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